


The lamb and the slaughter

by Write_Eat_Sleep_Repeat



Series: OC Inserts [6]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: -Ugly slurping sounds-, And now Annabel's a Cannibal, Annabel's messed up, Beverly Katz is the Best, Brian and Jimmy are amazing, Caring Will Graham, Dark, Death, Drawing, F/M, Graphic Description of Corpses, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, Hannibal is a Cannibal, Hannibal to the Rescue, I Don't Even Know, I have no idea how to tag, I love them so much, I should include the dogs a whole lot more, Insomnia, Kidnapping, Malnutrition, Murder Mystery, Nature, No they don't, Or do they??????, Original Character-centric, Paranoia, Poetic Murder, Poor Annabel, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape of a Minor, So many background characters who have nothing to do with anything, Strong Language, Suicidal Thoughts, Suspicions, They're just nothing, Trust, Which is only to be expected in this fandom, author cannot tag, but dogs also, nom nom human, slight humour, so that's good
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 17:19:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6293098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Write_Eat_Sleep_Repeat/pseuds/Write_Eat_Sleep_Repeat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Annabel Jackson has survived the worst Hell for most of her life and, after escaping The Monster, stumbled out of the woods to find a solitary house that belongs to one Will Graham. Urging him to keep her identity a secret from everyone, Annabel hands him some of her trust so he can help fix her back up, but it's harder than it looks. Hannibal Lector steps in to aid them. And that triggers the start of the end of Annabel Jackson. </p><p>This is very violent and dark, so you've been very much warned.</p><p>(Planned Hannigram but a very slow burn. Like super slow. It'll take a long long time in both fic time and real time.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Monster

**Author's Note:**

> Again, for a warning, there is not a happy start to this. This starts painfully dark and keeps that up for a while. If you can't deal with that, turn back now.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annabel lives with a monster. No-one but her sees it for what it is. Every time it sees her, it kills her.

The Monster's heavy hands stroked across the smooth pale skin of the girl's thin legs. She inhaled sharply and shakily, preparing herself to be ripped apart at the seams...again. There was no sounds other than her shaky breaths and the occasional creak of the mattress springs as It moved, all of it sounding much too loud before it was drowned out by the creature's deep growl. Crying out would be futile, she'd learnt that years ago, and it would just make the whole experiance worse; better she just let It do what It needed and then it'd be over with. It never spoke; It growled and It snarled and It took heavy breaths that smelt rotten. Its fingers ended in what felt like stone against her delicate flesh, It always pushed her down so hard she couldn't breathe and she felt like she was going to die. She always hoped that It'd finish her off.

It pushed her nightdress up and she buried her face into the traitorously soft pillow. It hooked a finger around her underwear and she closed her eyes tightly as to not cry. It took Its time as It dragged the crude amount of fabric off her and she took tight handfuls of the blanket. Then It lifted her hips up and...It raped her, yet again. That was all It ever did. She bit back every sob and every whimper and every plea for It to stop because she knew nothing would make It stop. Ten minutes passed and tears started to soak into the pillow. Fifteen and her throat started to ache from holding back screams. Twenty and It bent over her body to kiss at the back of her neck and breathe into her ear. After twenty five minutes, It was finished. It moved to lie beside her as It caught Its breath and drifted off to sleep. She tried not to think of the things that It had said to her; It had acted like It loved her and It was making sure she was alright, which was a load of bullshit. She tried not to think how It called her Its pretty girl, Its sweet baby. She tried not to think of how much putrid emotion It gave when It sighed her name, "Annabel", as It stroked Its hand through her long red hair. Her trying never worked, because there was nothing else to think about.

* * *

 

This monster **did** have a name, it meant 'Little King' but to Annabel it meant violation and impurity and a loss of her childhood in every way possible. She tried to never utter it nor even think it because then it gave this creature a human identity; the mask It put on around Its family and friends, Its girlfriend and Its colleagues, even while It had the 'dirty little secret' that was Annabel hidden in the secret cabin. This thing didn't deserve a human identity, just the foul twisted abomination that it truly was which only Annabel really knew. Oh, how she wished It would be found out by someone before it was too late for her, if it wasn't too late already. How she wished to one day have that wooden door unlock and for it not to be the monster coming to get her, but the police coming to save her from this pain that she knew nothing but.

Oh, how she wished she could be free from Its heavy grasp forever.

How she wished that she could die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starts dark. 'll probably end dark as well


	2. How we ran

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally free, she runs from the cold grasp of her monster. She runs into the caring arms of a monster in making. He hands her to the Devil himself, and the Devil smiles.

Running. Endless running and her feet ached and her arms ached and her lungs ached and her everything ached and she couldn't see past her red hair in her face or the tears in her eyes but she stayed running. She didn't care if her legs broke in half or her lungs collapsed just as long as she was as far away from the cabin as she could be because she had to get away from Him and she had to run.

The dogs scurried around and, whenever they ran too far away, they came back when Will called for them. He wandered about in the woods with his dogs happily, as content as he could get in his messed up mind. This was where he couldn't have worries; the woods by his house with his dogs were safe. A fortress.

Her breathing was heavy and her entire body was on edge and stiff as she moved as fast as possible even with her limited sporting ability and her weakened bones. The Monster had stopped chasing her god-knows how long ago but she wasn't risking it. She thought she heard running ahead of her but it could just have been her imagination. Her legs slowed. Her breathing became even less regular. Behind her tears, her vision became more blurred. She couldn't deal with it any more, the Monster was probably far behind and she was safe for at least a few hours. She could sleep. Or die, whichever came more naturally at that point. She collapsed, only semi-conscious, and waited.

One of the dogs, Rudy, suddenly barked rapidly and attracted Will's attention so the man hurried over, whistling the dogs over to him and going to see what got Rudy so worked up. There was a red-haired girl collapsed on a heap on the muddy ground, only really half-breathing and with hardly any decent clothes on. For the cold climate, she was wearing a short dress and ballet shoes with nothing else. Will desperately took off his jacket and hurried to the girl, lifting her up slightly so he could cover her with the jacket. Her eyes opened, showing that they were a bright brown and full of dimmed life, and she looked at Will weakly "Don..." She breathed softly and Will shushed her ever so slightly "Please don't hurt me." Her plea was weak and shy and broken. Will helped her up and she almost collapsed again. It was only a short distance to his house so he aided the strange girl away to where he could help her. There wasn't much that he could do, nothing more than cover her up and put food for her where the dogs couldn't get it. Afterwards, he called the only person he felt like would be able to help.  
_"Will?"_ The worried voice of Doctor Lector came and Will sighed.  
"How long will it take you to get here?" He asked with no extra detail, which would cut down on how long Hannibal would take.  
_"I will be there as soon as I can. Goodbye Will."_ Will just made an affirmative noise and let Hannibal hang up. When he'd placed the phone down, he turned to the girl. She was still unconscious, with Will's Jack Russell nuzzling her hand, and Will leant against the wall for a while and watched her. Her face was pained while she slept and she was tense as she curled in on herself and whimpered in slight agony. Will 'tss'd the dog away from the teen and sighed softly before going to feed the dogs.

* * *

Hannibal knocked twice and waited patiently for Will to answer, smiling at the man when he did "What was it that you wanted to see me for?" Will sighed and then gestured inside.  
"On my bed." He said and Hannibal walked over to the bed that Will had placed downstairs. The second that he saw the teenager lay on the mattress, he looked back at Will.  
"Where did you find her?" He asked and Will sighed softly.  
"The woods. She was almost unconscious." The younger man walked slightly closer to the teenager "The first thing she said was..." He sighed softly and Hannibal looked at him expectantly "She asked me not to hurt her." Hannibal looked at her and then walked over and checked over her.  
"She's malnourished." He said, snapping Will out of his little world for a bit, as he moved the thin blanket aside and observed her "Seems between sixteen and eighteen, yet she's not well grown for her age. Limited hygiene. She seems to have-" His brows furrowed as he tried to put pressure on one of her legs -it was slightly purple and looked crooked- but the second that his skin made contact with hers, she woke up unexpectedly and scrambled away frantically like a scared kitten.  
"No!" She cried and curled away from him with heavy breathing and her body shaking in fear "Get away from me."  
"It's alright." Hannibal soothed, perching on the end of the bed "We won't hurt you." The teen shook her head when he reached out so he just nodded softly in understanding and kept his distance "My name is Hannibal Lector, this is Will Graham." He gestured to Will, who was stood awkwardly at the side of the room. The girl's eyes flicked quickly from Hannibal to Will and back multiple times.  
"Annabel." She muttered weakly "My name is Annabel Jackson." Hannibal smiled kindly.  
"Annabel. Would you care to tell us why you were in the woods?" Annabel shook her head softly "Ok." He said and then stood slowly as to not scare her too much. He took the plate from where Will had put it and then, after casting a small disapproving look towards the food, held it out to Annabel "Eat." He urged "You must be hungry, after running all that way." Annabel gave him a sceptical look as she took the plate.  
"You don't know how far I ran." She said before she took a bite. The way that her eyes closed softly and she exhaled slowly at even the simplest food showed just how bad her food intake was.  
"How old are you?" Hannibal asked and Annabel looked at him briefly before looking back to the plate.  
"I'm sixteen." She said with a small frown "Yea. Sixteen on the seventh of May."  
"And when were you kidnapped?" Both Will and Annabel looked at Hannibal in shock and confusion. Annabel and Hannibal kept eye-contact for a second before she spoke.  
"1999." She sighed and Hannibal sighed a bit "You know about it?"  
"Of course. Annabel Jackson; A four year old girl taken from right under the nose of her parents when she was in bed. You were all over the newspapers. Surely you remember, Will?" Hannibal asked, finally imputing the other man. Will racked his mind for it and pouted a bit as he thought. Distantly he remembered something that might have been Annabel; small girl in Williamsburg kidnapped, police have no idea, FBI called, finally classed a murder case about five or six years later with hundreds of people coming in with fake evidence and confessions.  
"Yea. I do." Will said, having to clear his throat because of the under-use. They were silent for a bit more as Annabel wolfed down the food as politely as she possibly could. When she'd polished off the plate, she looked nervously at the two men.  
"I don't trust you." She said matter-of-factly and Hannibal smiled slightly, kindly as though trying to soothe her.  
"I expect you don't. After twelve years in captivity, you wouldn't be quick to trust anyone at all." Annabel nodded and then looked at her hands "Would you trust us more if we told you exactly who we are?" She shrugged softly.  
"Perhaps. But you could lie to me." Hannibal nodded a bit.  
"We could." He admitted and then just continued "I am a psychiatrist and Will is a special agent for the FBI." Annabel looked at Will briefly before looking back to Hannibal.  
"You're **his** therapist?" She asked and Hannibal didn't reply so she looked at Will again "You're unstable?"  
"Yes." Will said softly and Annabel smiled weakly as she nodded and looked around. It was good that he admitted it, because if not then Annabel could have more trust issues with him.  
"You have a lot of dogs." She looked at the dogs, who looked very intrigued about the new stranger that their master had brought in.  
"Yea." Will mumbled and Annabel looked at him again.  
"Can I pet one? I don't ever remember seeing a dog in real life." Will nodded and Annabel got shakily up out of bed, limping softly over to the animals and sitting down with them. The largest, Deanna, sniffed her experimentally and the girl flinched but allowed the dog to lay across her lap. She lay a shaky hand onto her fur and then stroked her while the other dogs went from licking her bare arms and hands to sniffing her to nuzzling her "Mr Graham." The two men looked at her "Can you...Not tell anyone I'm alive? I get that you're sort of meant to, but I just don't want to make a fuss."  
"What will happen if you do?" Hannibal asked and Annabel shrugged.  
"He'll kill me." She said casually "He said if he sees my face on the news, or hears my name muttered at work, then he'll find me and he'll take me again and he'll keep me for days and then gut me like a pig." Her hands started trembling and all the dogs tried to comfort her instantly.  
"I won't tell anyone." Will promised and Annabel smiled a bit.  
"Can I stay here?" She asked and Will looked at her in confusion "I might not trust you, but it's better to risk it than to go out there and risk him finding me." Will shook his head softly.  
"I'm sorry." Annabel's shoulders sagged before she exhaled shakily "There's just no room."  
" **I** could take you." Hannibal said and the others looked at him, Annabel so quickly that the dogs were startled "I have more than enough room to house you and, I mean no offence to you, Will, but I also believe that I could look after you better."  
"No offence taken, Dr Lector." Will said "It's the truth." Annabel looked at Hannibal while still messing absently with Deanna's fur.  
"So, you'll be taking me home. When should we go?"  
"Whenever you feel like it."

Hannibal and Will sat in silence for just over three quarters of an hour, watching Annabel play with the dogs until she stood and wandered around Will's house with the dogs fondly following at her feet. She didn't touch anything at all, too scared of reprimand and shouting to even try, but she ghosted her hands over the objects. When she saw the piano, her face brightened and then finally broke the silence by speaking "Mr Graham." She said, sounding slightly like she was asking a question "May I..?" She gestured to the piano and Will nodded silently. Annabel, though at first simply testing out the piano as though she'd never seen one before, soon made those brokenly played notes and chords into a beautiful piece of music that she must have remembered by heart. Hannibal smiled slightly, impressed by the girl's ability. Will seemed more awestruck at how she went from just simple tapping of the keys to a full blown classical music piece. When she'd finished, after having a few noticeable slip-ups, she smiled nervously and looked at Hannibal and Will "Sorry. Got carried away with it."  
"Chopin." Hannibal smiled and Annabel nodded "Prelude number 4, opus 28. Have you played it before?" Annabel scoffed a bit and shook her head.  
"No. But over a decade of reading books and only getting two new books a year...It ends up teaching you things without you even having to touch the instrument." She shrugged.  
"You played it beautifully." Annabel smiled childishly and then picked up one of the smaller dogs, because he was jumping at her ankles, and stroked him.  
"I think I'm ready to go now." She said after a few minutes of just petting the dog and Hannibal nodded.  
"Of course." He smiled and Annabel looked at him nervously before putting down Rudy and rubbing her wrists anxiously while the man put his jacket back on "You first." He smiled politely when they both went to the door, Hannibal first to open it with Annabel shifting nervously behind him. The asocialism of her was only to be expected, since the only company that she must have been in was not a very positive company. Her limp was more prominent as she stepped out of the house and down the few steps, since she'd been standing and walking for a bit, and Hannibal observed her with a small sigh. Annabel stood at the bottom of the steps awkwardly and just tangled her fingers together while waiting for Hannibal. Hannibal turned to Will, who had followed them to the door so that he could say goodbye.  
"What should we do?" The younger man muttered and Hannibal looked away from Annabel to look at him.  
"We do exactly what we said we'd do. I will take her home and look after her, you shall not say anything to Jack, and then we'll see where it leads from there."  
"But...It's not right." He tried to keep his voice low so that Annabel didn't hear "Whoever took her should be arrested, and she knows who it is. There'll be no need to tell the media about it, just Jack so that he can arrest the guy. After he's gone, then the media can have their fun and Annabel won't be in any danger." It did seem like a good idea, but they'd made a promise to Annabel and breaking that promise, no matter if it caused any fuss or not, would lose her some trust in them even though it was limited at that moment. Hannibal voiced this to Will, who nodded his understanding. The therapist didn't expect Will not to try and come up with a way to make both Annabel and the law happy. Hannibal knew that was just how Will thought, because he wanted justice for those who were wronged but he was also a man to keep his promises "Alright." Will sighed when Hannibal had finished with his reasons why Will's little plan wouldn't work "But...Can you call me if she changes her mind?" Hannibal doubted that Annabel would. No matter how damaged she was, she was also very strong-minded in her own opinions. Nevertheless, he nodded.  
"Of course. I will not push the subject, or try to force her to change her mind, but I will make sure to notify you." Will smiled a bit in appreciation, making Hannibal smile right back "Goodbye Will."  
"Bye, Doctor Lector." Will said and then Hannibal turned and walked down the steps. Annabel, who had been staring off into the woods, heard the footsteps and turned towards Hannibal "Goodbye Annabel." Will smiled and Annabel smiled back politely and nodded.  
"Bye." She muttered and then Hannibal led her to his car. She got in hesitantly and Hannibal got into the driver's seat next to her. The redhead was sat stiffly and had her head lowered as though preparing for some extreme pain to be received so Hannibal sighed softly.  
"I will not hurt you, Annabel." He reassured but Annabel just shrugged a bit. Hannibal just nodded in understanding, because he can't pressure her into trusting and believing him, before he started the car and drove off to his home.

* * *

 

The poor girl was so exhausted, even though she'd slept at Will's house –if that unconsciousness could be called sleep-, that she softly drifted off in the car. She was still tense and stiff as she slept but it was still sleep. Hannibal didn't want to wake her too early so he just stayed in the car for about ten minutes before he carefully reached out and touched her shoulder, just the tips of his fingers. As expected, she jumped awake with wide eyes and Hannibal moved his hand away instantly. When she remembered everything, and why she was in a car with a stranger, she relaxed slightly "We're here." Hannibal said softly and Annabel looked out of the window so that she could see the house.  
"It looks nice." She said. If it wasn't for Hannibal's perfect hearing, and the small space of the car, he wouldn't have heard the mutters from the girl. He smiled at her and bowed his head modestly.  
"Thank you." He said and then left the car. He went around to the other side and then opened the door for the girl, who stepped out nervously and then started to follow him towards the building. He waited, holding the door open for her, until she came over and looked into the house like she was a scared cat being rehoused. In some way, Hannibal supposed, she was. She limped in and looked around again, multiple times, before she looked at Hannibal as he entered "I believe I should show you around." He smiled and then led the way around the house. The teen looked awestruck by the place, which was probably a huge change to where-ever she was before, and her eyes all but lit up. Hannibal let himself be smug, if only slightly.  
He showed her every room that she'd need, choosing to ignore the slight look of fear when he told her where his room was (just in case she had nightmares), and then they came to one of the spare rooms "You can stay in this room." He smiled and then opened the door. Annabel eyed the bedroom like it was going to close in on her, or the walls would fall and she'd be back wherever she'd ran from but her manners led her to limp in and almost inaudibly thank Doctor Lector for this, he didn't have to deal with her, it's really not necessary to bother so much, to which Hannibal replied with a simple "Nonsense, it's the least I can do" and smile. It was actually kind of late, to which Hannibal was thankful for because that meant he had no appointments, and Annabel still looked tired but most of all she looked starved "I'm going to start cooking dinner." He declared and Annabel's eyes snapped to him from where they'd been absently trailing across the carpet's pattern "You make yourself comfortable and I will come to get you when it's ready."  
"Ok." Annabel nodded "Thank you, again, Doctor Lector." She smiled and Hannibal, again, modestly said it was nothing major.

 When Hannibal had left the room, Annabel set about looking around the place. This whole room was as big as her small room in the cabin combined with the miniscule kitchen, with some room left over. Where the cabin had been suffocating, this was amazing. She could breathe properly, she could stretch out on the bed, she could walk around without bumping into the bed or the wall. She _could_. Doesn't mean she would. The ginger had a funny feeling about Hannibal Lector, which she thought deep in her mind was just paranoia but that deep part also said it was justified. This stranger, a man she's only just met, agrees to house her instead of going to the police? He must be getting some kind of benefit from this, she thought, but what could it be? With the company she'd been keeping, her initial thought was obviously that he wanted unsavoury things from her. No matter how kind he was being, The Monster had been that kind when she first met him and look where that got her; 12 years in a cabin, endless torture, days on end with no food. But she had a fallback. She had Will Graham. Sure, she could trust him about as far as she could throw him, but he had been honest to her about his instability _and_ he had dogs and had allowed her to play his piano. If she went missing with not even a single explanation, not even a possibility that The Monster took her, he'd be on it like a bonnet. Trying to think positively about the stranger, no matter how much she didn't trust him, she wandered around like she had done in Will's house and she trailed her fingers across the many decorations. The bed looked inviting enough, a big change to her usual one, so she sat down. Sitting down turned into lying down and eventually she was asleep. Dreams were a luxury to her, so she wasn't scared by the darkness. Soon, much too soon for her liking even if she had no concept of time while asleep, Hannibal was knocking on the closed door and waking her up with a soft smile "I've finished dinner, if you're ready?" Annabel, still tired, nodded and let Hannibal lead her to the dining room. The only two seats set out on the large table was the head of the table and the seat beside him. Annabel saw that he had moved that chair a bit further away than usual to give the girl her space. Two plates of hot food sat on each placemat.  
"Thank you, Doctor Lector." She said meekly as she sat down.  
"It was my pleasure." Hannibal smiled and sat in his own seat "It is always a treat to have someone at my dinner table." Annabel smiled nervously and then started eating. For the man Annabel perceived him to be, this meal seemed too simple for Hannibal and that thought must have shown on her face "Judging by your reaction at Will's house just to a sandwich, I thought it best not to force rich foods and extravagant names onto your palette." Annabel nodded in understanding and started to pick at the food, which may have been seen as rude but her social cues were limited if not non-existent "I wonder, Annabel, if you would be ok if I ask you a few questions." The teen tensed up, because it was too soon to be talking about The Monster "Not to be afraid. Just simple, non-invasive questions." Annabel looked at him uncertainly and he smiled softly to try and calm her down "You do not have to answer any questions that you don't feel ok with, and you may ask me questions if you wish." She nodded quickly so he continued "Do you remember much of your family?" Annabel shook her head softly before she cleared her throat and spoke as to not seem too rude.  
"No." She muttered "He never let me know anything about them, even when I asked." When, in the silence, she didn't seem to want to ask questions, Hannibal just carried on while she ate.  
"Would you want to?"  
"Not really." Annabel sighed and started to eat properly "We wouldn't have any emotional attachment. They'd feel as much like strangers to me as you do."  
"Did He treat you well?"  
"Other than the **obvious** -" Annabel said slightly sourly "-yes. He made sure I was fed and clothed and entertained. Even when He was gone." Hannibal seemed intrigued, certainly more interested in the conversation than in his food.  
"How long would He be gone for?" Annabel shrugged softly.  
"Days, sometimes weeks. He had a life outside of the cabin and he had to keep it up. I was just...spare time." That seemed to be the end of Hannibal's questions, for the time at least, and they ate in silence. Annabel, at that point, excused herself and went, with very slight difficulty, to the room that would be her bedroom for the foreseeable future. She removed her ballet shoes and put them neatly on the floor before she lay down straight under the covers and drifted off immediatly.

* * *

 

Downstairs, Hannibal had tidied up and then looked at the small black duffle bag full of 'tools' which he'd prepared earlier so he didn't have to hurry about unnecessarily. He already had someone in mind. It'd be easy enough to get them, and everything was planned, but there may have to be a slight alteration to the plan.

* * *

 

The next day, Will woke up to his phone ringing so he groaned softly and rolled onto his stomach to grab his mobile "Yes?" He said groggily.  
_"Will-"_ Jack said and Will almost hung up then but he didn't have the heart _"-I've sent a car over to get you. You'll want to prepare yourself for this one."_ Will got up, nudging a dog away softly with his foot so he could get some clothes.  
"Basic details?" He asked as he walked about and grabbed a few things that fit, at least.  
_"Teenage girl this time, in a stranger's bedroom, no positive ID yet but we're trying. Looks like a Ripper kill."_ Will sighed. Just what he needed, the Chesapeake Ripper killing teenagers. This guy had no known MO, it was ridiculous. Jack continued with the girl's description, as though that'd help anything _"Looks about sixteen, skinny, unable to fight back..."_ Jack exhaled heavily, not really a sigh _"She's got bright red hair, which he...You'll have to see it."_ Will swears his heart stopped at that moment. The chances of it being who he thought it was, very small, but he was still very worried that it was her and it wasn't a Ripper kill. Sixteen, skinny, defenceless? Sounded like Annabel. And He might have gotten her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ending may be weak but...I'm sorry :s


	3. Dinner with a psychopath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Devil feeds her, and she enjoys it. They grow closer and further decide her fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this done for a while but was working on the next chapter and forgot I hadn't uploaded it :s
> 
> WARNING WARNING WARNING: Very graphic and almost poetic mental recreation of a murder at the immediate start. Anyone with ickies about this sort of stuff should probably walk away from the Hannibal fandom immediatly. Or at least this fanfic, since it's your choice what TV shows you like.

Will put his glasses into his pocket and exhaled slowly, stepping into the mind of the killer as he stripped away the entire scene of the crime until it was just him and the corpse in this random bedroom; no display, no outside noise and no police interference.

_It's all planned, perfectly; the setting, the display. The organs. There's only one unplanned aspect, her. I searched her out especially, a change of plan to what I was going to do today, and then lured her away and killed her easily. It's surgical, obviously, the way that I slit her open; starting from her bellybutton and going neatly upwards to the centre of her chest, parting the flaps of skin carefully to expose her innards. I take her liver. Her hair is bright red, the shade of freshly spilled blood, and I hang her from the ceiling on a hook with her hair plaited around it faultlessly. It's neater than finding a more brutal way to hang her up, such as piercing through her body like she’s a painting on the wall of a gallery. Like she’s a pig waiting for preparation in a butchery. I gutted her and hung her out, like a pig but with more care and more…respect. You aren't meant to be here, dear girl, you don't belong here at all. Which is exactly why you are here. You have to stand out, you have to be out of your comfort zone, you have to know that you’re going to die in a place where no-one knows you and you know no-one and you’re helpless. That's how it's meant to be for you. This is my design._

With slight relief, the empath opened his eyes and stepped back one step from the corpse as though he felt too close even though he hadn't even moved even a millimetre. He looked upon the girl again, so thin and fragile and pure and pale with her red hair being the only colourful thing about her. Thankfully, she was not Annabel. This girl had been killed by the Chesapeake Ripper, it was probably just coincidence that he chose to do this the night Annabel had been found. The 'probably' part scared Will, because if it wasn't coincidence then that meant that the Ripper knew very recent things of Will's life. Scarily recent "Jack." He half-called and then the door opened and people filed in to continue their work.  
"What is it?" Jack asked. He'd seen how almost panicked Will had looked just before opening the door, even if the brunet thought it was well hidden, and it had worried Jack because he needed Will at peak condition to help with these cases. If he was even slightly distressed at a crime scene, Jack had to pull him out of it which was not ideal but it was a necessity.  
"Random kill." The words were said slightly softer than usual, a mix of rare sleep being interrupted and of his panic still seeping away "It's definitely the Chesapeake Ripper." Jack sighed and rubbed his eyes in both slight tiredness and frustration because they all knew that they had a snowball's chance in Hell of coming closer to the killer. The fact that it was a teenager killed just made it that much harder; parents and the media pressuring them to find the Ripper even more in fear that other children would be targeted, Jack putting that pressure on his team and therefore Will, the pressure maybe becoming too much and finally snapping Will. They couldn't deal with something like that in the slightest, especially if Will couldn’t handle it.  
"No way you could figure out why she was killed? Or why she's **here**?" They were at an accountant's house. He had no idea who the girl was, he'd just come in after work and found her hanging in his bedroom; no CCTV around, too late for neighbours to be looking out of their windows for no reason, no connection to the teenager, nothing at all to catch the Ripper or even get a slight trace of him. __  
"She's here because she doesn't belong here." Will sighed, as he always did at crime scenes when everyone thought he had all the info. He can see a possibility of the killer’s mind, he can’t become the killer. Well, he _can_ but it’s dangerous because he could lose himself as them "He put her here because it's the last place anyone would expect to find her; she doesn't know the neighbourhood, she doesn't know anyone around, she doesn't know the house owner, she's so far from home she probably doesn't know if she's in the same state. She died scared and confused and alone. To him, this placement was perfect."  
"Why did he cut her open like this?" Beverly mumbled and Will shrugged.  
"She deserved it." He said, still partially looking through the Ripper's eyes. This is his point. It’s dangerous "He felt like she deserved to be gutted like a pig and displayed as such." Jimmy sighed as he tried to help two other guys get the girl's hair untangled from the hook.  
"Such a pity." He said mournfully "Such a young girl, had her whole life in front of her. And someone just had to take it all away for no reason."  
"What type of psychopath would do this and have no remorse?" Beverly said in disgust and Jimmy shrugged "Poor darlin'." The teen's eyes were forced closed, better for her family, and then she was covered and taken out of the room.  
"Yea." Will said hardly audibly "He'd have to be a monster."

* * *

Annabel awoke softly from a dreamless sleep to the smell and noise of cooking. For a bit, her disorientated mind went wild because the sound of cooking means that He must have come in while she was asleep and if He was there while she was sleeping then He’d...With the realisation that the noise wasn't close, sounded faint as though from downstairs, Annabel looked around the room and realised that it wasn't the crappy cabin with its rickety stairs that she refused to touch. It was -she tried hard to remember- Hannibal Lector's house, he'd helped her, and he was evidently cooking her breakfast. With a look to the clock on the bedside table, she realised that it was actually going to be lunch so she tried to get out of bed before it got later and she’d done nothing all day. Her leg was still aching very badly but she didn't want to make a fuss so she struggled out of bed and towards the bathroom to do her business, wash her hands and then brush her teeth. After that, and washing her face of course, she limped slowly down the stairs and wandered towards the noise to find the kitchen and therefore Hannibal. Her feet treaded bare against the soft carpeted floor and she looked at the various decorations around with a soft awe and slight fascination that she didn’t have time to convey or even process on the short tour. It was very different to her cabin. The teenager looked hesitantly into the pristine kitchen and saw Hannibal in his element, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his jacket over the back of a chair as he cooked with amazing method. The soft noise of her bare feet against the carpet outside the kitchen, and of the door opening slightly more, caught Hannibal’s attention and he looked up to see Annabel stood awkwardly at the door as though unknowing if she could enter without a reprimand “Annabel.” He smiled at the sight of her before his small smile faded with her just standing there “Please, do not lurk in doorways, it’s rude.” His tone was kind, even if the words were an obvious order, and Annabel nodded as she quickly entered the room that seemed so foreign to her. Only when her feet first touched the cold floor did she realise that she’d left her shoes at the side of the bed upstairs, so she looked to her feet and then to Hannibal.  
“I’ll just get my shoes.” She mumbled and Hannibal shook his head softly.  
“There’s no need. For the time being, this is your home so you should be as comfortable as possible.” He smiled and beckoned for her to come further into the room so, hesitantly, the ginger walked up to the island and looked to see what he was cooking “Are you hungry?” He asked kindly and Annabel nodded.  
“Jus’ a bit.” She cautiously looked at what he was cooking, unsure of what it actually was “Are you… adapting my palate to your tastes?” The girl almost sighed, just to cover a yawn, and Hannibal smiled a bit at her.  
“Only slightly.” He admitted “It’s nothing too extravagant.” He reassured and Annabel nodded softly before she sat as the kitchen island stiffly and crossed her legs with a slight wince at the pain that shot through her “May I suggest something that you may be against?” Annabel tensed noticeably and she looked scared but Hannibal continued regardless “I promise not to hurt you, and will discontinue if you tell me to.”  
“What is it?” She asked him with a soft tremble in her voice.  
“I just wish to check on your leg. I believe it may be badly injured.” Annabel looked down at the bruised limb, still underneath her short dress and actually looking worse than the day before, and then nodded hardly at all.  
“Ok.” She said meekly and Hannibal smiled, muttering a ‘thank you’ for the permission to check up on her.  
“Now, I have only one last question.” He said and looked a bit up at her while he was still cooking “Have you ever had liver?”

* * *

“Definitely the Ripper.” Beverly said as she checked over the body “It’s so clean, no-one else it could be.” Will nodded, he already knew all that and they all knew it was useless to try and find any evidence but they were just clutching at straws. Actually, more like trying to eat soup with a fork. While her eyes were closed and she was lain on that metal slab, she looked so much like Annabel. Will knew that it was ridiculous that he’d felt worried that Annabel was dead, since he hardly knew her, but he couldn’t help it. He’d felt such a large connection to Abigail, since he killed Garret Jacob Hobbs, and it seemed to be a recurring theme with him; worrying about teenage girls who’ve had their lives destroyed. Always collecting the strays. Will looked away from the corpse and exhaled slowly. It was still early, the sun had only just come up, and there was really no need for Will to be there but he had nowhere else to be. He could go back home but there was nothing there but his dogs, which didn't seem like enough reason at that point. Normally they’d be enough but that kill just shook him to the core. He needed to see Hannibal, he decided.

After a very brief and useless report back to Jack on the still unidentified body, everyone left. It was a fairly decent time to be awake, but only just. Beverly kindly invited Will for a drink but, just as kindly, he declined. It was nothing against the woman, and she understood that, but he just didn't do well in bars or any other large crowded place. He went to his car with a small sigh and started driving home dubiously. When he got to his small house, he fed the dogs and let them run around for ten minutes before herding them back in. He cleaned up, because he hadn't got the chance to earlier, and then set off to Hannibal’s house. Hannibal had said that his kitchen is always open to friends, so Will was going to accept that unsaid invitation to come in whenever he needed. He set off to Hannibal’s and got there around 12, knocking with slight hesitation.

* * *

There was a knock while Hannibal and Annabel were sat in silence, eating, and Hannibal excused himself to answer the door. Annabel carefully listened to see if she had to hide away from a stranger “Will.” Hannibal said and Annabel smiled softly “I wasn’t expecting you.”  
“I-I’m sorry. I just got away from Jack.”  
“Another murder?”  
“The Ripper.” Will said, confirming it, and Hannibal sighed because it must be very extreme if it was another Ripper kill. That serial killer seemed to get into Will's mind better than any other one.  
“Come in. Me and Annabel were just eating and, as always, I believe I may have made too much.” Annabel shook her head a bit. She knew that the extra food wasn’t seconds in case she wanted more, it was a whole other portion for someone else. It seemed that Hannibal Lector was very sneaky, or very hopeful.  
“How is she?”  
“Well. She slept through the night with no incident.”  Annabel bowed her head. It sounded like she was a new-born, how they were speaking about her, and she hated the idea of being babied. She’d had enough of that with Him. He’d loved to baby her because He loved keeping her younger than she was, her wardrobe showed that. She’d had a constant fear, since she started her period, that He’d kill her because she was too old for Him. But no, He’d wanted…He’d wanted a child of his own that He could touch. He’d wanted her to have His child, so that He didn’t have to go out and get another girl when there was so much more security and a higher chance of Him messing up. He truly was a monster.

Anyway. Will walked in and Annabel smiled politely at him before looking down at the plate and eating slowly “Hi Annabel.” He smiled and Annabel nodded softly.  
“Hello Mr Graham.” She mumbled as Will walked over. Hannibal entered just slightly.  
“If you want, I can set up another plate.” He said to Will, who nodded.  
“Yes, thank you, Dr Lector.” Hannibal smiled and then left to the kitchen while Will sat across from Annabel “How’ve you been?”  
“Fine.” Annabel mumbled and looked up slightly “Dr Lector said that he’s going to check on my leg later.”  
"Good. I mean, it's better to find out if it's broken now than when it's worse." Annabel nodded and picked at her food, slightly grateful when Hannibal walked in with Will's portion of the food. The elder man placed the plate down and then sat back down in his place with a small smile to both of the others. Will smiled weakly as a 'thank you' and then the three of them started to eat in silence.

"Who's the Ripper?" Annabel asked after a quite long silence between the three of them. Will and Hannibal looked at each other, silently asking each other if they should really tell her. Hannibal decided that she should know, since the Chesapeake Ripper wasn't really a hidden piece of information that she'd never hear about, so he just nodded and Will sighed softly.  
"The Chesapeake Ripper is a serial killer. He displays his victims like he's displaying art, and not even the best of the FBI can catch him."  
"Maybe you'll be able to." Annabel smiled softly and Will shook his head "Why not? If they take you to the crime scenes then they must think that you have the capability of capturing The Ripper." Will smiled softly at the compliment to his abilities and Annabel bowed her head as she finished the small amount of food she had left. The ginger put her cutlery on her plate and then stood before she started to take her plate to the kitchen. He may have raised her wrong, but He didn't raise her to be a slob.  
"You don't have to do that." Hannibal said, but Annabel just shook her head softly.  
"I'm going to be living in your house, I have to do something." Hannibal nodded a bit, but a look in his eyes showed her that he would allow it only that once. When she'd washed the plate and cutlery, she put them on the drying rack and then went back into the dining room. While they sat, she decided that she should try to socialise with them because it felt like she should know these men who were going to help her. She looked to her hands, trying to ignore the fact that there were wounds healing on them, before speaking "Mr Graham, what exactly is your job?"  
"I'm, uh, a special agent for the FBI. I'm a criminal profiler, I try and figure out why the killers do what they do." Annabel looked at him and titled her head softly.  
"Are you good at it?"  
"I suppose." Will shrugged and Annabel sighed just slightly.  
"You must be, if they're putting you on Ripper cases. It sounds extreme, do you like doing it?" Will looked slightly shocked, because that could mean anything from 'do you like helping people' to 'do you like looking at dead bodies'. Any other person would have seen that look and reworded their question to be more specific but it didn't seem that Annabel was going to.  
"I like the feeling of capturing someone that's harmed people, because it's the right thing to do. I don't like having to see what they did."  
"Have you ever killed anyone?"  
"Why are you asking?"  
"Because you visually don't seem the type. But, from what you said, you seem the type to kill someone if they were going to harm someone else." Will wet his lips nervously and then nodded, looking down to his food as he took a small mouthful.  
"Once."  
"Do you remember their name?" Hannibal, who had just been listening to the interaction while he ate, looked subtly over to Will.  
"Garret. Garret Jacob Hobbs." Will said, his voice not even wavering as Hannibal thought it might do.  
"Was he a murderer?" She tangled her fingers together under the table. Will and Hannibal noticed that she seemed very extremely interested in this aspect of the FBI, both starting to wonder why. Will would never ask why she was intrigued by it, because he was too polite. He wasn't too sure about Hannibal though. He could make anything sound polite, even if he told you that you were a fucking idiot.  
"Yes. A serial killer, known as the Minnesota Shrike. He killed 7 women, including his wife, and almost killed his daughter Abigail." Will said, forcing himself to keep an audible tone.  
"But you saved her?" Will nodded "By killing Hobbs?" Will hesitated before nodding again "Did it feel good?" After slight hesitation, Will replied.  
"It felt right."  
"You took a life so that you could save more." Annabel smiled softly and Will nodded. They were left in a small silence that Hannibal broke after maybe three seconds.  
"Annabel, if you don't mind, I would like to ask you more questions." Annabel nodded her consent, since it was only fair after she pulled apart Will's job "Why are you so interested in murder and death?" Annabel pondered it for a bit.  
"It seems...strong. Even the weakest man can end a life, and death is final."  
"You don't believe in an afterlife?" Annabel shook her head.  
"I have no reason to." She said with a shrug.  
"You aren't religious?" Again, she shook her head "Why not?"  
"Are you religious, Dr Lector?" She asked without answering.  
"Yes." Hannibal said and Annabel tilted her head slightly as she spoke.  
"Why?" Hannibal pondered it and couldn't conceive an answer "My reasoning for not being religious-" She said when she saw Hannibal was struggling to answer her "-is the same as your reasoning for being religious. I don't know." Hannibal nodded his understanding and then finished up his food. Being the host, he didn’t take his plate to the kitchen immediately and instead stayed to converse with the other two "So, you're a therapist, Doctor Lector?" Hannibal nodded "How do you deal with it? All these people telling you what destroyed them."  
"I take indifference towards it. Their mental state is an unsolved puzzle; I'm just watching them try to fix it and giving them help if they need it."  
"You like your metaphors, don't you Doctor Lector?" Hannibal smiled warmly and nodded just slightly "Does that come with your job? Being alarmingly cryptic?"  
"Some would argue it's my sole redeeming feature."  
"Your cooking is pretty good as well." She joked and Hannibal chuckled softly.  
"I get many compliments about it."  
"I wish I knew how to cook." Annabel muttered as she looked back at her hands.  
"I could teach you." Hannibal volunteered and Annabel looked at him with a small pout of soft confusion. He smiled just a bit at her and her pout cleared into a smile.  
“I think I’d like that.” Will, meanwhile, had finished so Hannibal stood and took both his and Will’s plates to the kitchen, leaving Annabel yet again with the profiler. It was an awkward silence, both of them lacking the social abilities to converse properly with little effort or with no-one leading it. Will was first to speak.  
“What did you do when you were alone?” Will asked and Annabel shrugged as she looked to her hands.  
“I, um…I read a lot. That’s all I could do until I was 12, and then he got a PlayStation for me. It was an old one, but it still worked so I played on that for a lot of the time.” Will rubbed his eyes softly while Annabel was speaking and she frowned just slightly “Are you ok? You look tired.”  
“I’m always tired.” Will mumbled and Annabel looked pretty worried "It's fine, I'm not really the best sleeper."  
"Do you have nightmares?" Will nodded "Would it be better if you didn't dream at all?"  
"Sometimes I think so." The man said.  
"Up to eight hours of darkness that you're totally aware of?" Will's face fell softly "Dreamless sleeps seem like a good concept to someone who has nightmares, but when you actually have them then it's hell." She then looked at Will properly and saw that he was very concerned about her so lowered her head and stopped talking.  
“Do you ever dream?” Annabel shook her head softly.  
“Never. I think I’m too scared.” Will lowered his head and Annabel sighed “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”  
“It’s fine.” Will said softly. Luckily, Hannibal entered the room again and saved them from their awkwardness, since the elder was the only one knew how to carry on proper conversations.

* * *

When Will had left, after a slightly tense few conversations, Annabel went immediately to the kitchen while Hannibal said his farewells. The sink was already filled, since she hadn't drained it after washing her plate, so Annabel just started washing the dirty pots. When Hannibal entered, looking for the girl after he thought she’d still be at the table, he shook his head slightly and walked over “Annabel.” He said softly “You don’t have to do that.”  
“I feel like I have to.” Was the reply that Annabel gave with a soft shrug.  
“You are a guest, and I would feel terrible if I let you do this.” He said, trying to stop her but the way she flinched when he reached out stopped him.  
“I’m living in your house, so I feel like I have to do something to repay you. Even if it’s only cleaning.” Hannibal nodded his understanding and then moved to stand beside her, leaning slightly on the counter next to the sink.  
“Was there much housework to do where He kept you?” Hannibal asked casually and Annabel shook her head.  
“I didn’t eat much so there weren’t many dishes, I never left a mess so there was never any cleaning. All I did was read and organise the bookshelf.” Hannibal watched as she cleaned the dishes at a ridiculous speed as though she felt compelled to do this chore but she wanted it over and done with as soon as possible.  
“You don’t need to do that-” Hannibal repeated “-if you don’t want to.”  
“Doctor Lector.” She said in a way that could be considered stern but that quickly fizzled away to slight fear “I…I want to.”  
“Of course.” Hannibal muttered and then walked out of the room to double check that the table was tidy. Even after triple checking, he didn’t go back to Annabel until he heard the sink draining.

“Now. Just stretch your leg out.” Hannibal said and Annabel winced just slightly. He had time before his first appointment so he could use that time to figure out what was wrong with Annabel’s leg. They’d moved back to the dining room and Hannibal had sat Annabel at the head of the table while he was knelt on the floor to check the muscles of her leg. It certainly wasn’t broken, but something was wrong. When she held back a soft noise of pain, turning it into a squeak, Hannibal looked up at her through his eyelashes and frowned slightly “What did I ask you to do, Annabel, before we started this”?  
“Um…To not hide it if I’m hurt.” She said softly and then lowered her head “Sorry, I just don’t like-"  
“-It’s fine.” Hannibal smiled and then stood “Good news, it’s not broken. In fact, I just think you badly pulled the muscle and the cuts on the back of your leg won’t help it relax. If you don’t mind, I’d like to clean and cover the cuts.” Annabel nodded her consent and then Hannibal gestured for her to wait a second as he got his first aid kit. It was obviously quite underused since he hardly got injured and there was no-one who came over and got injured to the point that he’d need to get out the first aid kit, but he knew that everything was going to still be effective against what she had. They looked like pretty bad cuts, as though caused by her moving underneath a sharp object. Shattered glass would be the best bet, considering where she said that she lived and the probable way that she escaped. When Hannibal came back, he was quick yet precise in cleaning and wrapping the wound before handing a hot water bottle to her “You should hold this to your leg, it will relax the muscles and you’ll be ok.”  
“W-Why’s my leg purple if it’s just a pulled muscle?” She asked and Hannibal sighed softly.  
“I think you may have hit it when you were running, or if you fell, so that explains it. I assure you that it’s not broken or injured to the point that we’ll need to take you to the hospital, which I think is the news you were hoping for." Annabel nodded palely and Hannibal smiled as he stood and helped the teen up "I'll have to go out to keep appointments, if that's ok with you?" Annabel nodded "You can go anywhere you want, watch whatever you want on TV, do anything you wish." Annabel, again, nodded her understanding as she adjusted her hair while Hannibal put his jacket on "Will you be ok?"  
"Yea." The girl muttered and then wandered after Hannibal to wave him off nervously.

* * *

The class was as it always was. The usual droning on of murder talk and motives and answering questions, all while the murder of the red-haired girl was playing in the back of his mind along with worrying about how Annabel was and how Hannibal was treating her. Will knew that the therapist would be treating her well and wouldn’t be doing anything that could be considered abusive or evil or malicious, but he had this protective feeling over her already. It was like that with Abigail. He felt almost instantly like he had to help her and protect her and be like a father figure even if that wasn’t the usual thought process.  It was his need, to protect and nurture like his father had failed to do with him. It wasn’t that his father was a bad person, but he was too busy to really take care of all of Will’s needs and to be there when Will needed him emotionally. Then again, Will’s never been good with emotions. There was a red-haired girl in Will’s class. She was quiet yet friendly and smart and Will expected a lot from her. She wasn’t really in the spotlight for anyone and she stuck to herself but she had a lot that would be going well for her. Will thought that, maybe, Annabel could have been like her, or that murdered girl could have.  
Why did she have to be ginger?

Hannibal’s first appointment was a university student with PTSD. He’d been involved in a car accident as a child and had a debilitating fear of public transport and any type of motorised vehicle, making him choose a university and therapist not too far from him so that it wouldn’t affect his life. He suffered from the usual things of his condition, nightmares and flashbacks and forever reliving the crash that had rendered him paralysed from the waist downwards, and he was too scared to try any therapy other than talking therapy. He’d only been going for a month or so but the young man, Jacob, seemed to be getting better, so Hannibal gave a few suggestions that would be in his comfort zone.  It was all quite…boring, really. This was just one of a few recurring and common conditions that people came to him with that he was well versed with. His favourite types of patients were the interesting and new ones, not that he found their mental issues entertaining but they were different. There was Elsie, a woman just on the edge of schizophrenia from overuse of marijuana, and Tanner, he was a young child who had slightly sadistic tendencies and was showing early signs from the ‘homicidal triad’ -Arson, Animal cruelty and persistent bedwetting after a certain age, of which Tanner was doing the latter two. Of all his patients, Will was his favourite. The therapist wanted to be more involved in Will's life, more than the almost invasive way he was currently, so that he could burrow into the profiler's mind and see just how it worked and just how Will worked. Will would be an amazing thing to figure out, which is why Hannibal wanted to be in every part of his life. Maybe, after seeing how Will was with Abigail and figuring out he'd be like that with Annabel, the girls would help him gain access where he wanted to be. Right with Will, constantly, even when he wasn't there physically.

 


	4. Party Crasher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new monster leaps from his hiding place, with a horrific outcome.

_3 days later, 4 AM_

There was a soft breeze in the air that curled around limbs and flicked hair around gently, that cradled leaves just long enough to lift them and carry them away elsewhere to a new unknown place where they could have a new adventure, that animals stood in to feel across their fur or their feathers so they could be calmer while other animals didn’t encounter it because it was their time to rest. It was the kind of breeze that you’d think of while needing utter peace in winter, enough to cause a chill but not to make you uncomfortably cold. You’d know it was there, and the soft bite would be enough to make you sure that you were there mentally, but you wouldn’t mind. There was no sunlight, but the hazy glow of moonlight bouncing off a winter shine around cast a sweet atmosphere on the entire beautiful scene. Little dots of snow speckled the muddy ground to add purity to the filth while the grass was nigh unnoticeable below its cold white thin blanket, and it give an almost Narnia-like look to the mucked outside. The soft smell of freshly ended snowfall was still wafting through the air, soothing all tense muscles and all harsh lines to make them soft and mellow. All in all, no matter how bad these things could become on the coldest and darkest of nights, this was the most peaceful scene possible in a winter such as this.

And just down from this scene of almost fantasy, in the house that owned that land, ear-splitting screams shattered the illusion of perfection and beauty. Blood spurted from the large open wounds of the new victim to cover the glass doors leading to the paradise outside, the walls already painted with the blood of the others. As the final victim fell to the ground, limp over victim #3, his killer took up a cloth and wiped the blood off of the curled sickle casually. He counted the bodies around him to make sure he’d definitely crashed the slumber party properly, counting five people. There was something wrong. Six people had walked into the house that day. With a soft groan at the cliché, since the door hadn’t opened and closed, he walked around the house slowly to check all the usual places; the bathroom, bedrooms, closets, kitchen, any little hidey-hole he could find in each room and on the way. Then, he thought, maybe it’s more stupid than that. Maybe they’ve had such a stupid idea that it almost hurt him to consider it. Think like a stupid teenager threatened with horrific death, too scared to leave the house and too stupid to hide properly. He walked back to his crime scene, painted in blood and bits of muscle with a few odd specks of bone around (hey, he may be a professional but he’s not saying he’s perfectly neat; there’s only so much you can be capable of when your weapon is a sickle), and then walked to the corner of the room and looked behind the sofa. A teenage girl, the sixth person, was curled up and was shaking like a scared cat on heroin. He rolled his eyes and sighed “Fucking really?” He said, his arms going limp in slight resignation “You have all the opportunities in the world to run out and call the cops, or fight back, and you hide behind the fucking couch? You deserve to die, you immense shit-stain on the pants of Earth's intelligence.” Then he tugged the couch aside with just slight difficulty and raised the sickle.

* * *

Hannibal awoke to the sound of distressed noises from the other occupied bedroom so, after putting his dressing gown on, he walked out of his room and went to Annabel’s door, knocking twice to check if she was awake. When there was no answer other than the snivelling cries, he opened the door and walked into the room. Annabel was lay under the soft sheets, tossing and turning and whimpering in obvious distress, so Hannibal walked over to the bed and softly tried to wake her up from her night-terrors. The girl, the second that his hand touched her arm, woke up and scrambled away so quickly that she actually fell off the bed with a cry. Hannibal, shocked and worried, hurried around the bed to crouch next to her and check her over “Are you ok?” He asked and Annabel, after realising where she was and who was with her, nodded softly.  
“I…It was a nightmare, I’m sorry if I woke you.” Hannibal’s smile was soothing and calm to try and reassure the girl that it was ok as he helped her stand and sat with her on her bed.  
“That’s fine. I want to help you, so I think I can sacrifice a few hours of sleep.” Annabel, when she smiled, didn’t seem like she was assured but instead quite nervous. Even through the days, where Hannibal had tried to strengthen her trust in him, she hadn’t really allowed herself any kind of comfort from him. He didn’t really expect her to, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t feel a bit of upset “Would you like to tell me what it was about?” This was her third nightmare, she had the other two in one night and Hannibal had asked her both times if she wanted to talk about it. She didn’t, just like now. When she shook her head, Hannibal sighed just slightly but then nodded to show he understood before he double checked she was alright and left.

Annabel lay back on the bed and sighed, looking at the alarm clock. Her leg was fine now, the bruising and pain had stopped with the cuts having scabbed over already, and she wasn’t scared of walking around the bedroom. She was just scared of Hannibal. The part of her mind that was still rational throughout her mental torture told her yet again that there was nothing to be afraid of. She wanted to believe that, but Annabel Jackson cannot just trust that easily. The ginger girl exhaled shakily as she sat up, giving up the idea of going back to sleep, and then picked up the thing that she used from the age of 7. A notepad, which Hannibal had gifted her a day after they met since he found her taking pieces of scrap paper and doing intense doodles on them. She took up a pencil and just started drawing. It never mattered what she drew, whether it be plants or buildings or random shapes, because they always were so detailed that she lost herself in the creation. More than once she'd found herself drawing someone who looked a bit too much like The Monster, or a place that seemed too familiar to be comfortable. Hannibal had never seen them, because he was very respectful of her privacy and she had never wanted him to see them. In those three days, she'd almost filled the notepad since she had nothing else to do when Hannibal was out working. Will had stopped by a bit the day prior to talk to Hannibal, and he'd called up once while having a panic attack of some sort which needed Hannibal's attention. Other than that, there was nothing that happened. It was boring, living in hiding, but it was what she was used to. It's sad really to think that her existence only consisted of silence and drawing. And videogames, but not in Hannibal's house. He had a television, but not a games console, so Annabel couldn't continue her usual routine that she had when He was gone. In a way, that routine used to help her and she missed it. Not the abuse, but the other parts of it where he left her alone and she could do anything that the cabin offered. Never have fresh air, no. The first taste of pure air she'd had in a while was when she was greedily taking it in and trying to outrun her doom. Hannibal, thankfully even for these cold times, let her keep the windows open if she felt too closed in.  
It was so early. She didn't get much sleep, no matter how cosy and inviting Hannibal's guest bed was, because she just hated sleeping. As a girl in captivity, all she could do when she was bored was sleep but the dark places behind her eyes were haunted by the monster. Sleep wasn't a luxury, it was a further prison. Drawing, that was what would always set her free. This time, she drew the streetlight she could see through the slight gap between the curtains. The sole bit of light in this darkness, but poetry was never Annabel's thing -she understood it and appreciated it but could never do it. No matter how boring it sounds, Annabel stayed drawing random things for two hours. She imagined what would be illuminated by the streetlamp, the beauty hidden in the night, and then her mind went to the dark. What things, hidden away in the shadows, would want to **stay** there? Her mind turned to the obvious idea of people who were monsters that tried to not be monsters, but then she pushed that away. Timid creatures, their eyes peeking out from the blackness to say hello without saying hello. Bright green eyes, or blue, with pupils almost the same size as the actual iris. It was sweet to a point, but not what Annabel knew would hide in a place like this. This streetlight was her, her sanity and her little bit of hope. Timid creatures would stay innocent in the light where dark couldn't touch them until they stepped out, the bad creatures would wait in hiding until the time was right to pluck the happy little things from their faux safety. She thought, for a second, that she'd lost entire portions of those two hours. Hey, time flies.

Since he couldn't get back to sleep, Hannibal put on one of his songs and sat down in the living room with a cup of coffee. Maybe three times in two hours, he heard Annabel walk across the hallway once or twice just to walk back to her room with nothing achieved. Her soft muttering almost drowned out the music to Hannibal, since he seemed to just want to focus on her and not the music. It was slightly nonsensical babble, about trees and animals and trust, but it didn't worry Hannibal at all. He had been observing her almost the whole time he was with her, noting down anything he thought was worth it. Slight PTSD and a type of anti-social disorder which were both expected. The babbling, that was just a side effect which may be subconscious since she spent her whole life locked away with no-one but herself for company. Either way, it didn't bother Hannibal. He could sit back and observe her, all he wanted to figure out what makes her barely tick. It was two and a half hours after he had come downstairs that the sound of Annabel's bare feet padding down the stairs trailed into the living room. When she walked over, standing in the doorway, Hannibal saw that there was the notepad clutched in her tight grip "How are you feeling, Annabel?" Hannibal asked and the ginger shrugged.  
"Better than I thought I would be. I, uh, owe you so much."  
"Your happiness is the only payment I care for." The psychiatrist said and Annabel laughed softly at the cliché "Would you like something to eat?"  
"Not yet, Doctor Lector." She mumbled and sat at a different chair. Where Hannibal was obviously relaxed, Annabel looked scared that sitting back would cause the chair to swallow her whole.  
"When you do, just tell me and I will gladly make anything you wish." He still hadn't gotten around to his more exotic recipes with her, since even the slightest hint of abnormality in her food the day previous had caused her to pull a confused face. She had eaten it, but there was that little hint of dislike at the sudden change. Annabel nodded her understanding and then allowed herself enough calm to listen to the song Hannibal had turned on while tapping her fingers softly against her notepad.

* * *

_9 AM_

Jack had been in work for a while, still stressing slightly over the redhead that the Ripper had killed days before. They'd ID'd the girl as Elise Ogden, a girl from Baltimore, and got her mom in to properly identify her. Thankfully, her face hadn't been mangled so it would be a relatively easy moment. Not very easy, but easier than if she was disfigured. So, the last thing he needed was another teen kill. He got a call in while looking over the limited evidence they had, telling him that he was needed and Will Graham would probably be needed as well. The details were vague, but he was told that it was a massacre of six people aged around 18 to 22. **Just** what he needed. Jack mentally prepared himself for the scene as he drove over. He'd seen the worst things a man could see but there were things that could sometimes surprise him. Namely massacres, ritual killings or just something he'd never heard of before. Hopefully this wouldn't be that bad.

* * *

Clothes cleaned, the unsalvageable ones burnt, body cleaned, sickle cleaned and hung up, clothes changed. He was ready for work now. He may have been a bit sleepy, but at least he didn't have those fucking kids next-door keeping him up.

* * *

There was no order. It was just chaos. Some killers have at least a slight neatness but this was just full of hatred and animalistic fury, hacking and slashing wherever there was flesh to hack and slash. Some parts of the bodies weren't attached to anything and each one was piled on top of the other, except one cowering behind the couch. The once pale-green walls were splattered in blood, the carpet stained as well. The place stank of rotting flesh already, the heating in the house turned up to the maximum, and it seemed like the sort of scene you'd expect from Nightmare on Elm Street. It wasn't an unseen thing, but it was certainly very disturbing. How could someone get so mad at a group of kids (which they were, compared to Jack)? How could someone get so mad at **anyone**? This was just insane. Yet Jack didn't want to bring Will in for it because he understood that Will had the potential to break under all the pressure. The Ripper was too much already.

“What do we know?” He said and Beverly sighed.  
“Other than the victims’ names? Nothing.” She ran her hand through her hair “The killer was brutal, obviously. Whoever it was, they were effective in what they wanted to do.” Jack looked at the pile of bodies, the sight almost making him vomit but he didn't look away "Weapon was a blade, incredibly sharp. I can't tell for definite, but I guess they died almost instantly." That was maybe a comfort to their families, that they didn't suffer, but Jack didn't care for that. He only cared for how much evidence there was, for how easy it would be to catch this guy. The easier it was, the sooner he could get the killer and the sooner he could focus on Elise's case. But sometimes the messiest killers can be the cleanest. This could be a one time rage-killing or this could be someone who is not only at risk of killing again but is **sure** to kill again. He barked orders, he observed the scene, he repeatedly refused to allow Will's help, and then it was time to...interview the neighbours. Joy of joys, his best part about the job; listening to people either praise the dead or insult them while preaching 'no offence'. A few houses were empty, since the occupants were at work, so those addresses were noted down and a small note of 'we visited' was left for them. Taking all the info he had on the deceased, he figured out that they loved to be loud and they annoyed quite a few people on the street. One man had seemed particularly mad, according to a few people, so his name was underlined on the list and they decided to find his workplace to ask him a few questions.

Samuel Roberts.


	5. Hidden in Drawings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Devil is immortalised, and Justice tries to find a monster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell that I don't plan my stuff out????? Ever.  
> I've never planned a fic out, I just have extract ideas and go with it for months until I think of how to start it, then write the first chapter and get stuck. The longest time I've worked on a fic before finishing the first chapter is five years. Supernatural fucked me up, dude. Anyway, enjoy.  
> Or don't. Your choice.

It was early for Annabel to be awake. Annabel had been sleeping in until almost 10am since she arrived, which Hannibal actually took as a compliment to how welcoming his home was, but this was the first time that she'd come down before then. At 8:04, after Annabel had been absently doodling for about twenty minutes, the ginger finally looked up at Hannibal "Do you draw, Doctor Lector?" She asked softly and Hannibal nodded slightly.  
"Yes. Only replicas of pre-existing drawings, and buildings. Not anything original, like you do."  
"Nothing I do is really original." Annabel laughed softly "There could be hundreds of people who've had the same thought as I have and who have jotted it down long before I ever conceived the idea."  
"Perhaps." Hannibal mumbled "But maybe you have a unique imagination and your artwork is just as rare." Annabel shrugged faintly and exhaled heavily as she went back to drawing in silence. This time, though, Hannibal wouldn't allow the silence to settle "What do you draw?"  
"Things." Annabel mumbled vacantly and Hannibal smiled softly even though her uncertainty almost pained him.  
"Specifically, what things do you draw?"  
"I dunno." Annabel sighed heavily "Just anything." She looked at him, eyes wide and innocent "Do you want to see?" Hannibal let a small smile grace his features and he nodded slightly.  
"If you want me to." The ginger almost seemed excited as she flicked through her notepad to show him a drawing that she'd done a while before. Hannibal took the pad delicately and let his eyes glide over the page. It was a beautiful land of black-and-white, like a land of fairies, with rivers of immense detail and trees where each leaf seemed to be the same with just subtle differences that should have taken a long time. The scene of a fantasy film previously unseen, details that would inflame the mind with possibilities of the things that would happen there, all hidden past an open wooden door, a cabin in this mythical place. Yet there was something dark about the emptiness of it all, something about the isolation that made this beautiful place seem like a crime scene, and Hannibal got a rare uneasy feeling about the drawing and what went on in the teen's head "It's very nice." He said with a slight smile and handed the girl's pad back to her "It's...magical." Annabel's face fell and she nodded halfheartedly.  
"Yea, I guess." She mumbled and closed the pad. Hannibal pulled a confused face and sighed.  
"I get the impression that's not what you wanted to hear me say." Annabel closed her eyes, shaking her head.  
"Art is...open for interpretation."  
"What do you see in it?" She shook her head faster than before and sighed.  
"I don't think I'm ready for that, Dr Lector." She muttered, only just audible, and looked at him almost worriedly.  
"I understand." He said as he smiled at her.

Further silence, broken yet again by Annabel "Can I draw you?" Hannibal smiled and nodded.  
"Of course." He said, thankful that she trusted him that much. To some people, art is more than just a talent to show off. It's their heart, their safe space, their comfort blanket that very few people can see. Only those who are truly trusted and special can see their chosen expression; whether it be dance or photography, painting, sketching, creative writing, modelling or model making. All of these and many more, all can be precious to the creator and can make such a difference to their friendships. He was glad to be allowed to see her artwork but to be allowed into that notepad, to be immortalised into the paper, was truly a honour for him. He didn't mind her intense stares as she took every part of his face in before she started sketching him. The room filled with the sounds of pencil against the paper for a while, Annabel mumbling and replying to herself while Hannibal just observed her.  
"You have a unique face, Dr Lector." She said softly "Quite sharp." Hannibal smiled.  
"Thank you, Annabel. Very kind." Annabel looked at him, with her brows furrowed and her lips slightly parted as if she was almost scared that Hannibal had replied.  
"Is it?" Hannibal nodded "Oh. Okay." She shrugged gently and went back to drawing.  
"Can you concentrate on drawing while talking?" Annabel made an affirmative noise and loosely gestured for Hannibal to carry on talking "How did you learn to draw?"  
"Drawing books, tracing over pictures, doodling on any surface I could. I needed something to do, and paper is cheaper than PlayStation games." Hannibal nodded his understanding, wanting to probe further into Annabel's life in captivity so wondering how exactly he could do it without triggering a negative reaction from her.  
"What kind of things would you draw, when you were There?"  
"Anything." Annabel shrugged "I'd draw myself, I'd draw the room, I'd draw places in my video games."  
"Would you ever draw your captor?" Annabel clenched her fists tightly, stopping her sketching of Hannibal as her knuckles turned white around the corner of the book and around her pencil.  
"Never. Not... Not the real image."  
"As you saw him?" She nodded once and forced her grip to relax "And how did you see him?" Annabel sighed and looked at Hannibal.  
"A monster, Doctor Lector." The redhead said simply "Heartless and evil. And I'm not ready to talk to about It yet." Then she went back to drawing him, trying to perfectly capture every line and curve of his face, being so gentle with it though her hold on the pencil was rough.  
"Of course. I'm sorry."  
"Don't be." She said instantly "You're doing so much for me, you don't need to apologise. I understand why you're asking." Hannibal looked at her questioningly "It's your job. You can always try to separate work from home life, but it must be difficult when you psychoanalyse people for a living." The elder man nodded.  
"Occasionally. But I try my hardest." Annabel smiled gently.  
"You don't have to. Psychoanalyse me all you want, I'm sure that nothing you find will be a surprise." Hannibal smiled and bowed his head in a thanks at the permission and then just allowed Annabel to draw him uninterrupted for a while

"It's fun to draw you, Dr Lector." She mumbled, mainly to herself, after maybe another ten minutes of immense detail "You look so composed, but..." She stopped just short of saying anything that may be considered rude, looking almost cautiously at him while badly concealing it behind fake-looking at details of his face.  
"But?" Hannibal asked and Annabel quickly shook her head.  
"It was rude, Doctor Lector, I'm sorry."  
"I won't be offended, I assure you." Annabel frowned deeply and then put on a fake smile. Hannibal could tell that it was fake, because it was too large a smile. Annabel had only smiled softly and timidly, hardly ever looked at Hannibal when she had, but this smile was large and sunny and she looked straight at Hannibal as though desperately trying to make him notice that the smile reached her eyes.  
"It's stupid, really." She said chirpily. Hannibal looked over her face with furrowed brows.  
"You're used to faking smiles, aren't you?" Annabel's smile fell instantly and the light that seemed to shine from her face suddenly disappeared.  
"Yes. Very." She muttered as she looked back at her drawing "I had to." The elder nodded and then ended all conversation until Annabel was finished with the drawing. When she'd finished, the pad was handed to Hannibal and he looked over it. It was just him, nothing abnormal, and it was an amazing piece. He'd had a few people draw him before and none of them were even half as good as what Annabel had done. Then again, that may just be his perception since he knew how little she trusted people and this was a huge show of trust and care from her. He told her how much he liked it, and she said that he could tear it from the pad and keep it if he wanted. After considering it, he decided against it because that would ruin the perfection of the drawing pad. Dubiously, Annabel took the pad back and closed it, resting it on her knee and staring into nothingness while she listened to the music drifting around the room.

* * *

Jack walked through the factory, officers beside him, and followed after the manager to one man sat at a table, eating with his workmates and joking about "Samuel Roberts?" Jack asked and the man looked at him with a soft look of confusion.  
"Yea. Can I help ya?" He asked and Jack took his badge out.  
"I'm Jack Crawford, FBI. May we have a talk?" Samuel nodded once and then excused himself from his friends before following Jack to a more private place "I just need to ask you a few questions."  
"That's fine." Samuel said, putting his hands in his pockets "What about?"  
"There were a group of young adults in the house next door to you, weren't there?" Samuel nodded after a second.  
"Yea. Bit rowdy, but what group 'o friends isn't?" He chuckled a bit "Why? They in trouble?"  
"Well, they're dead." Samuel's eyes widened in shock and his face contorted to confusion, his jaw dropping slightly.  
"They're...All of them?" He asked and Jack nodded. Samuel's shoulders sagged and he ran his hands across his mouth "W-When? How?"  
"Early this morning, and we'd rather not disclose specifics right now." Samuel nodded in understanding "Did you hear anything unusual this morning?"  
"Um, no." He said, shaking his head "I mean, they were all up until pretty early in the morning but I'm used to sleeping through loud noises. Everyone lived with us when I was a kid so... Sleeping through loud kids is second nature." His eyes were stuck to the floor in what seemed to be internal denial that these kids were... Were dead.  
"Can you walk us through what happened when you woke up?" Samuel frowned, confused as to why they'd be asking him these questions, and looked instantly to Jack.  
"Am I a suspect?"  
"Just...loose ends, Mr Roberts. Not enough evidence to have suspects so far." Jack clarified and Samuel, though still seeming slightly annoyed that he was a suspect, complied.  
"I woke up at about 6, as I always do, and I had a shower, fed my birds, then had breakfast. Then I got dressed and headed here. Didn't notice anything weird, everything was just normal. You can try and check that, if you want. People did see me leave. I mean, Ross Nevin over there. He lives just across from me, and he needed a ride because his little boy totalled his car few days ago." Jack looked at who Samuel was pointing to, and nodded softly.  
"And...Was Ross acting strangely?" Samuel looked at Jack in slight confusion.  
"No, he was normal. I mean, a bit monosyllabic but I just guess he was tired. Asked if those kids had kept me up much, if they'd been loud." Sam shrugged, his hands slipping back into his pockets "But everyone on our street knows those kids are loud. Had a few complaints before, me and Ross included." Jack gestured for someone to note the fact about Ross down and then smiled at Samuel.  
"Thank you, Mr Roberts, for your help." Samuel smiled back and shook Jack's hand.  
"Any time, Sir. If ya need anything else..." Then he turned away, with Jack gesturing that it was all, and walked back to his friends.  
"What they want?" Oliver asked and Samuel sighed sadly.  
"The kids, next door." Everyone around, who was listening, nodded their understanding since both Sam and Ross had complained almost daily about the kids "They're dead."  
"What, all of them?" Erica asked and Samuel nodded gently, staring off into nothing.  
"Every last one of 'em."  
"How?" Sam shrugged.  
"Didn't tell me." The table dissolved into chatter and theories.  
"Probably murder." Hetty said and Oliver scoffed slightly while rolling his eyes.  
"Yea, right."  
"No, seriously. Probably one of 'em was a psycho and just snapped. Murder-suicide, ya know?"  
"Or someone got sick of the noise." Warren muttered "I mean, Sam and Ross were already on the edge about them not shutting up." While everyone spoke, Ross and Sam were silent and were just slowly eating their lunch without even seeming to listen to the conversation.  
"But what's the likelihood of that happening?" Oliver gestured for if Hetty was going to eat the meatballs in her pasta-pot, which she shook her head in reply to so he took it "The probability of living on the same street as a murderer is so minuscule."  
"Maybe it's their first kill. The kids just made 'em snap." Erica said, looking over to Sam and Ross "Hey, you two ok?"  
"Yea." Sam said instantly, while Ross nodded once without a single word even muttered into his food "Just kinda shocked you know? They were noisy kids, but they were just kids." Him and Ross looked at each other, both seeming suspicious.

When Jack got back to his office, he started conjuring very early theories that had started to only bubble up in the car. There were two possibilities so far, since a murder-suicide didn't seem possible with how mutilated each and every body was. One, Samuel Roberts had killed the kids and had used Ross as his only alibi to check. That was, Jack thought, not a very solid probability, because a lot of things would need to perfectly happen to get Ross as an alibi. But how could he not hear a mass murder in the house beside his?  
Second idea, Ross Nevin was the killer. He could have used Samuel as an alibi, and seen the braking of his car as an excuse to an alibi. Both ideas didn't have a leg to stand on, just speculation, but it was still just an early investigation so he expected evidence to support either theory or to totally disband both of them. Hell, both theories could stand. Use each other as alibis, kill the kids, get out of suspicion. If the combined theory was the truth, Jack just had to wait for the paranoia to seep in. After all, if it was just because the kids were loud, they wouldn't have to kill again. At least, that's what he hoped. He went down to Beverly and the guys, to just see how they were progressing, and it almost shocked him to see that there were seven tables. Six of them were decorated with mostly-finished bodies while the final had the remaining body parts that hadn't yet been put in the proper place. While Jimmy was looking over the bodies with half of a leg in his hand, wondering which of three corpses it belonged to, Beverly was planning to see if she could get a DNA match on at least the body part to finish the corpse. They may not find who the people really are, but they can at least make them whole again. Jack cleared his throat and everyone looked at him "What've we got?" Jimmy handed the leg piece to Brian and walked around the table to Jack.  
"Two completed corpse puzzles, and a lot of mixed up pieces." Jack looked back over them all "We've got their clothes all being checked and swabbed and whatnot, and Brian had an idea of the weapon type." Both Jimmy and Jack looked at Brian, who had just placed the leg on the right table.  
"Huh?" He asked when he looked up and saw the looks of the other two.  
"Weapon?" After a second of confusion, he nodded his understanding.  
"Oh, yea. I'm thinking a sickle or a sling blade, maybe a billhook. They're all traditionally tools for farming or clearing pathways in overgrown areas, very sharp. Not rare for people to kill with a sickle, because of how sharp they are, but not too common either. Then again, sickles aren't common around here." Jack nodded slightly "Billhooks, especially, are made to cut through tough undergrowths so it's possible that, with enough strength and sharpness, they could be used for mutilation." Again, Jack nodded before he looked to Bev.  
"Any ID yet?" Beverly shook her head with a gentle sigh.  
"Not yet, but I'm betting one of them is the homeowner's kid. Female, so it's one of three. I'll need a picture of the kid before we know."  
"There any family photos in the house?" Jack asked and everyone looked between each other.  
"Probably." Jimmy said as he looked back at his boss. Jack gave him an expectant look "I'll see if we got any." He said before he scuttled off to the evidence and shifted through it. As he did, Jack looked over the corpses and almost gagged. They were so disgusting, cut at the joints and connections and some just cut straight through parts of the bone. One of the completed ones had their head cut in half, and they couldn't properly put the head together just yet so the top part was just placed down awkwardly. The grotesque manner just made his stomach turn and he was glad that he hadn't eaten at that point because it would all be sure to have come up just then.  
"You ok, Jack?" Brian asked and Jack nodded, turning away "Yea, it's terrible. Jimmy threw up earlier."  
"That was you." Jimmy called over and Brian hesitated for a second.  
"Ok, yea, that was me." He admitted quietly, making Beverly chuckle and shake her head at the ridiculousness that was her workmates.  
"You got anything, Jimmy?" Beverly called and Jimmy made a noise of victory.  
"Yes. A family picture. Think the frame had blood on it, so that's why we've got it." He said, hurrying over to Bev and handing her the picture. She stood and went to the bodies, comparing the girl's faces to the one of the girl in the picture. When she found the girl, she put the photo on the table.  
"Here. Parents are Brooke and Frank Ware. Did we try to get them?" Beverly asked and Jack nodded.  
"They're apparently out on a business trip. Not the first time they've trusted their daughter alone for a few days. She's called Regina." Jack then, again, turned to look at the carnage "Can you be sure it's her?"  
"Face is kinda messed up, but I'm almost certain. She was the one behind the couch."

It took hours for them to match the body parts to the full corpses, and that's before they properly identified the young adults. That took much much longer.

* * *

 Will barely slept. Though it had been a while, images of the ginger girl's corpse were still flooding his mind nearly every night, along with the face of Garret Jacob Hobbs. Why Hobbs, he had no idea. Maybe to taunt him, maybe to threaten him with pain for the second girl that he was becoming protective over. He found himself with the urge to go to Hannibal's house daily to see Annabel. She wasn't too comfortable with him still, but more so than before and he was happy for that. He'd seen her the day before, coming to Hannibal's house with no excuse that was reasonable but Hannibal seemed to understand and he allowed Will to enter and talk to her. He hadn't spoken much to her, just asked the general questions and sat awkwardly with her. He'd woke up that day with the urge to check that she was ok, that she hadn't been taken in the night like when she was a child. Instead, he got up, had a morning shower, got dressed, fed the dogs and then fed himself as much as he could handle before he went to the school to start his lecture. Running his hands across his face, he pocketed his phone after checking it. No messages, no missed calls. In a way, he was pleased because that meant he wasn't going to be hassled about his opinion of Elise's murder for that day. He'd given all he could, he'd drained every bit of anything he could find from the evidence. The Ripper had struck again with a one-off kill, and that's all. But Will saw one thing there that he couldn't make sense of. It wasn't planned, it wasn't an impulse killing. It was an outline that the Ripper filled in as he went along. Something had happened that made him feel the need to kill in a special way, and not knowing what that was just scared Will to death.


End file.
